


Sweet Will Be The Flower

by Lafrenze



Series: The Tender Tale Which Flowers Reveal [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, POV Second Person, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Reader-Insert, florist!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/pseuds/Lafrenze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at a florist's was just something to help pay your way through college. As long as you received a steady paycheck, that was good enough for you.</p><p>If only you knew how much more you'd gain, if you could just be patient until spring.</p><p> </p><p>[For Jill, the co-founder of the Noodle Husband Fan Club, with love]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wisteria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is after way too long because I'm self-critical and slow. BUT I PROMISED AND I DELIVERED AND ALL I CAN DO IS HOPE IT'S QUALITY NOODLE HUSBAND. I swear this is gonna pick up steam just. I'M GONNA DO MY BEST!
> 
> Also, I've totally made a fan club for our precious noodle husband and you are absolutely a co-founder and joint president.

Most people, when confronted with the inevitable return to work that the arrival of Monday brought with it, were understandably put off. Their weekend reign of freedom was cut down in its prime and, other than those lucky enough to either love their job or indifferent enough to not care, generally it was a day maligned. Any other week and you might have been in the same position, you genuinely enjoyed your free time, what little you could scrape together, but this week was different. Today was the day your new co-worker was arriving, after three and a half weeks of being short-handed around the florist shop you called your workplace. Sarah, your former co-worker, finally found a proper 9-to-5 job at a law office and put in her two week notice before taking off, leaving only you and the owner, Alex, to man the store until a replacement was found. Which meant a string of long, exhausting solo days at work. Pulling double duty wasn't that great, neither was the arriving early and leaving late, but the overtime pay made for worthy compensation. 

Today would be the last day of that, however. The new hire was supposed to come in early today so you could keep working on his training. Alex said she'd train him as much as she could in two days, but there were a bunch of large orders heading out over the next few days that kept her from giving the full song and dance, so she was counting on you to ensure sure everything went smoothly. You'd probably just stick the newbie on front desk duty; it was easy to learn and manage, with the added bonus of providing enough down time to learn other tasks. You started as a cashier, so you could walk him through it the same way you did.

The streets were relatively quiet for a late-summer morning, relative being the operative word in a city that never shut down, and it made for a pleasant trek to work. You were lucky enough to live within walking distance, saving you oodles of money on transportation, with an added bonus of some exercise that you wouldn't find time to fit in elsewhere in your days. When you finally arrived at the store, you made sure to give the windows a proper once over to assess if they needed to be cleaned today. A surprising amount of people dragged their hands on the glass as they walked by, and children liked to come up to the windows to stare at the displays, so they required frequent washing to keep them decent. Other than a few stray hand prints here and there, they were still nice, so you assumed Alex must have washed them yesterday. During your inspection, however, you noticed the displays were a little worse for wear, especially the large bouquet of carnations, and you made a note to change those before work became too busy. It wouldn't do to have wilting flowers out to show the public. With that settled you unlocked the door and went inside, but made sure to leave the sign the way it was to keep people from wandering in before opening.

The now-familiar floral smell met you as you entered, always more potent on Monday after two days of being away from it. Your first stop is the break room, to drop off your purse and stash your lunch in the mini-fridge for later. Even though it was still early in the day, there was still plenty to accomplish, so you figured you'd jump right in and get started. You didn't enjoy sitting around waiting anyway, it just wasn't something you could force yourself into. Since there were still a couple of hours before it was time to open the store, you turned on the little music player that you had stashed behind the checkout counter. Work always went a smoother with some music to listen to. Your favorite mixed CD was the default these days; when Sarah was still around it was half and half, but now it was all yours, as Alex rarely touched it. Well, at least until the new guy was allowed to open the store, and he'd be allowed to bring in his own music, but you'd enjoy your little luxury a tiny while longer.

Before anything else, you decided to change the display vases. The idea of using silk flowers had been brought up several times that you know of, but the thought of a florist advertising with fake flowers was a sad one indeed. You couldn't say it didn't have it's merits though. The arrangements needed to be changed much more often than a person would think, since what might pass at home for not too wilted would certainly not pass as advertisement. Since fall was on it's way in, technically arriving in a mere week if you listened to calendar dates even when the temperature begged to differ, you'd started to move towards autumn colors, orange majorities with some reds and golds for contrast, although you liked spicing them up by showcasing the more traditional arrangements next to brighter, more varied ones. After all, variety is the spice of life. Well, that and you liked the freedom of a larger color palette.

Carefully, you took each vase off the shelves in the window, six in total. The flowers you tossed, there wasn't much that could be done with them other than turning them into compost, and neither you nor Alex needed that. All the vases needed a proper wash, so once you carried them all into the storeroom and drained them into the sink, you did just that. You weren't sure if you'd pick any of them for this week, instead you were thinking of using smaller ones, especially the narrow, fluted glass one that you had a particular fondness for. Eventually you decided to reuse two of them, both black with white stripes, alongside your favorite glass vase, a short and wide burnt orange one, and two white vases to round it out.

As you re-entered the front room to start gathering flowers, all the vases safely in a box for ease of transport, you noticed someone standing outside the door, glancing nervously between his phone and the little placard that displayed the store's hours. On a hunch, you figured that he was likely the new guy, and he didn't know he was allowed to just walk right in. After setting the box of vases down on the counter, you attempted to catch his attention by waving vigorously at him. When he jumped and snapped his head up to face you before managing a weak wave and a shy smile in return, you decided it worked.

“The door's open, come on in!” you shouted, waving him in. He seemed to get the message, easing your worries that even at that volume he wouldn't be able to hear you, as he pocketed his phone and grabbed the door handle, blushing quite heavily when he found it completely unlocked and easily opened.

“I wasn't sure anybody was in here yet,” the man said, his tone a mixture of nerves and relief, walking over to you. “The lights are on, but I didn't see anyone in here, even though Ms. May said to be here at 7:30 today, and the sign still said 'Closed'. I hope I'm not too late.”

You couldn't help but laugh a little bit. “I'm sorry about that. You weren't out there too long, I hope? I was in the back, washing last week's vases. I've gotta leave the sign flipped over to keep passersby from waltzing in early. Even then, it doesn't stop some of them from trying.”

“Oh, no! I just got here.” He stopped there, or at least he planned to before jumping to attention as if he just thought of something. “I'm Steve, by the way,” he said, offering a hand almost timidly.

Now that Steve, it was nice to have a name other than 'New Guy' to accompany the face, was closer, you noticed just how wrong you had been about your silent predictions. You hadn't been expecting a beefcake, it was a flower shop after all and even if it was a little stereotypical to write an entire group off on that fact alone it didn't stop you from hedging your bets, but Steve was downright _tiny_. Certainly you were no towering, NBA-worthy giant yourself, but besides being short for a man there was something about just how delicate he appeared that only added to the impression. Add to that just how pale he was and you might have even used the word sickly, but that felt too mean and you promptly discarded the thought. If it wasn't for how neatly his blond hair was combed, you could almost call it shaggy, although the unruly bangs that fell to his bright blue eyes felt as if they were doing their best to mess that up.

Did you dare let yourself think, however briefly, that he was actually kind of cute?

Back in the immediate present, you smiled at Steve while shaking his hand firmly, giving him your name in return. “So, just how much did Alex teach you before sending you my way?”

“Um, she showed me around, so I know where most everything is. I was usually working at the register, though, or helping her sort through the order forms when she was busy with the flowers,” Steve replied.

“If you're comfortable with it, I want to keep you on the register for now. We've gotten a bit tight on time around here, so I'll need to teach you in bits and pieces. Not exactly how I'd prefer to handle it, but I'll do my best.” Speaking of being short on time, you realized that if you kept standing there talking you'd fall even more behind. “There I go again, holding us up. I need to grab some flowers back in the windows before I forget. After you put your stuff away, can you count the money in the register? She showed you that, I hope?”

He nodded, and headed off to the break room. While he was doing that you returned to the store room and began deciding what flowers to choose. The majority of what you kept on hand was the standard florist fare, roses, carnations, lilies, et cetera and so forth, simply because it was what people knew and wanted, not to mention they were cost effective, but Alex prided herself in having a variety of less common flowers and greenery. She didn't want to run just another flower store. _If I wanted a dime-a-dozen store I'd just work for someone else's_ were her exact words, and you respected that deeply. Gently gathering all sorts of flowers, a handful of orange roses here, a few cuttings of wisteria for contrast before it completely went out of season, and oh, how could you pass up the tiger lilies. It should come as no surprise why this was your favorite part of this job.

Steve wasn't sure how long it usually took you to retrieve flowers, mostly since he could only name nine, maybe twelve, types off the top of his head, but he was done counting before you returned. It struck him that he shouldn't worry, after all what could happen in here of all places, but being a concerned person by nature he struggled with not knowing. Thankfully, before he could convince himself to go back there and check what you were doing, you emerged. In your arms you cradled the largest bunch of flowers he'd ever seen; you even had one, something large and trumpet shaped, tucked behind your left ear. Your eyes were closed, a testament to how well you must have known the store, and you were humming along to the jaunty piano tune coming from the speakers.

When you heard Steve clear his throat your eyes snapped open and you remembered that you weren't working the store solo anymore. You chucked bashfully, and hoped your embarrassment wasn't too noticeable. “I got a little carried away there, sorry. You done already?”

And bless his heart, he let you change the subject with ease. “Yes, ma'am. What should I start on next?”

“Well, if you'd prefer, you could help arrange these. More fun than counting bills and change for sure. Or you could put the new orders on the calendar, if you'd feel more comfortable doing that since Alex showed you how already.” For a moment you considered adding some of the more menial tasks left to finish to the list, but decided that it was his first day and you just weren't about to foist off the chores to him on that account.

“I'll work on the order forms, if that's alright with you,” Steve replied, swallowing his relief, both that he was allowed to choose, and that you didn't seem to notice the emotion in his tone.

“Whatever floats your boat,” you said with a playful shrug and wink, grinning mischievously at the blush he fought down. “You don't know what you're missing out on, I tell ya.”

As he went off to add to the schedule, you resumed your humming and finally started working on the bouquets. Hopefully some of your cheer would rub off on Steve, although you weren't complaining about not having to do less paperwork. More than anything, you were looking forward to not having to work alone, and it was a truly wonderful feeling. Even if he was _awfully_ shy.


	2. Phlox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO TAKE TWO WEEKS AND I FEEL LIKE I ONLY ACHIEVED LIKE, HALF OF WHAT I INTENDED BECAUSE THESE TWO JUST SORT OF TOOK THE ACTION A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DIRECTION SO I HOPE IT'S STILL UP TO SNUFF. OTL
> 
> But no really, I hope I'm getting good characterization, especially with tiny Steve, because I want to convey him right without turning him into Trope-y McGee. I totally thought about making him a criminal justice major, and I wanted to touch on his wanting to be in the military, but the thought of art major Steve was too good, so I have to save background stuff for another chapter. I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS I'M NOT SURE I CAN STOP AT 11 CHAPTERS LIKE I PLANNED.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~more like i have so many feelings about pre-serum steve and so few outlets to express them~~

The following weeks flew by, in the same fashion that time always did when life was pleasant and trouble was nowhere in sight. Which wasn't to say that everything was easy, but with a remarkable lack of crises and surprises, you were able to coast along with the autumn breeze right into October. Within a matter of days the temperature dropped and the crisp winds began to blow, although the leaves stubbornly remained green. Their time would come soon enough. Between work and school you kept busy, and it was that time of year where you began to dread the multi-holiday rush. Halloween was fairly quiet, flowers weren't a traditional staple for that holiday, but Thanksgiving and Christmas followed right after. The only worse times to work at a florist's were Mother's Day and Valentine's day, respectively.

It was this lull in the action that gave you and Steve plenty of downtime on the job. Alex didn't care, so long as everything that could be done was, and that if a customer came in you didn't appear to be slacking off. You'd long since mastered the art of looking busy, having worked this job for three years now. On the other hand, poor Steve was struggling with the free time. He was so used to working straight through his shift that the new-found lack of activity kept him feeling guilty and nervous. It took the better part of a week to convince him to simply relax and enjoy it while it lasted. After regaling him with stories of busier times ( _“There was one year where, no kidding, two grown men got into a fistfight because they wanted the same arrangement on Mother's Day. Makes you wonder what the moms would say about that.”_ ) to try and instill a proper appreciation for quiet days, he finally relented and began to settle down.

He'd taken to bringing his sketchbook to draw in. You'd gotten to take a couple of peeks, here and there, and you were impressed by how talented he was. It was full of sketches of flowers and people, which wasn't that surprising considering where Steve spent most of his day. You did your best to keep from badgering him about it, or worse still, hovering over him, for which he was extraordinarily grateful. On the other hand, your free time was usually filled with homework or studying for tests. The more you could accomplish during the day, the better off your evenings went. It wasn't the most entertaining use of you time, but you could slog through it well enough.

Or, well, you might have done so, if you weren't so excruciatingly _bored_.

“Steve,” you whined suddenly, childishly pushing your notebook away from you, “distract me, please.”

The unexpected outburst made him jump in his seat as he turned quickly to face you. Other than the faint noise of traffic outside, and the jazzy tune playing quietly in the background, it was silent in the store. Remembering at that moment what Steve had been doing, you felt a twinge of remorse for startling him. The thought that you might have caused him to screw up his work was more than unpleasant.

“Distract you from what, exactly?” he questioned while craning over to see what you were doing.

“Homework. If I have to answer any more questions about what prescriptions are used for what problems, what doses you use, or side effects and drug interactions, I'm going to scream,” you said, melodramatically letting your head fall into you hands. It really wasn't that difficult, you were simply acting as something of a drama queen, but you'd been on this topic since classes resumed for the fall and the sheer amount of information was taking it's toll on your mindset. You knew it was important material, but man was it tedious to work through.

“Prescriptions?” Steve questioned, picking up your notebook and leafing through it. The open pages were full of your handwriting, everything from lists of nearly unpronounceable words next to numbers and measurements, to hand-drawn charts and grids used to match symptoms to medicine names, and, fittingly, margins full of scribbles and silly doodles. “Are you working on becoming a doctor?”

That was a question you were asked often, so you weren't surprised to hear it from him. “Nah, not quite. Respiratory therapy. It's cheaper and I don't have to spend a decade in school building debt, though there's no fancy title and the pay's not as glamorous. But it'll provide for an okay living, and I'll get to help people all the same, so it works out.” Sometimes you felt guilty for not having better reasons, or more ambition, but you didn't so there was no point moping about it. You were young, and there was still most of your life to figure out what your magnum opus would be. Thinking of something for the first time, you lifted your head to look at the blonde sitting next to you. “Say, what'd you go to school for?”

“I'm still working on my Fine Arts degree. I want to get into illustration, but I'm not sure where, exactly,” he said, handing back your notes.

Actually, that made a ton of sense. Although, you weren't sure if illustration was a fine art, but your knowledge of art was limited to whatever you found on the internet, so you'd give yourself a pass there. Considering your artistic abilities were mediocre on the best day, you stuck to appreciating over creating. “Like comics?”

Steve nodded. “Or other stuff, like books, or websites. There's plenty of places I could use it, I'm just not sure quite what I'd like to do with it just yet.”

“I'm sure you'll find what you like working on best.” You closed your notebook and put it aside. As far as you were concerned, you were done for the day. Deciding to have a little fun, you shot Steve a cheeky grin and continued. “So, when you make it big am I allowed to say I knew you before you were famous?”

While the shade of red he turned was beyond endearing, and exactly what you'd hoped for, your grin fell away when you notice how hurt he looked. Before you could save yourself, he spoke up with a scowl. “You didn't have to say it like that.”

That's when you realized he probably got enough _actual_ teasing about being an art major without you being silly for a reaction. It wasn't the first time your lack of proper timing and brash sense of humor teamed up to make you feel like a giant jerk. “Shit, Steve, I didn't-” He'd already started to get up, but you managed to gently grab a bony wrist so you could at least apologize. “Steve, scout's honor, I didn't mean it like that I promise. Just, just hear me out, okay?”

He looked back at you, narrow face drawn tight, as you turned on your best puppy eyes. You really, honest-to-God, _did not_ mean for your words to come off like they did, and you also absolutely, positively, didn't want to hurt his feelings like that. Steve's silence emboldened you to keep talking while he was willing to listen. “Look, this one's on me and my big mouth. I didn't think through what I was gonna say, and I didn't spare a thought to how it was going to sound and that's my fault. I shouldn't have said it like that. I'll admit, I wanted to get a reaction out of you, but I was hoping for slightly embarrassed or flustered. I'm really, really sorry.”

It took a moment, then two, before he relaxed with a quiet sigh and looked back up at you. For some reason you started to feel even _worse_ because he wasn't mad. If you knew just how rarely he backed down like this from letting an argument escalate, your guilt would have only grown. “It's alright. I jumped to conclusions and got angry.”

You cut him off. “No, no. You had every right to get angry. I'd have gotten angry if I thought someone was being mean like that to me. If it's any consolation, I do think you could get famous because of how talented you are.” Even though he still looked sad, Steve gave you a small smile. “I mean that. Your drawings are amazing, but I'd be proud to know you even if they _weren't_ five-star.”

That earned you a full-on grin and in relief you matched it. You were so glad that the situation was resolved quickly, and made a mental note to think before cracking any more jokes. 

“I hate to ruin the mood but, um, you can let go now,” Steve said quietly, and you realized with horror that your hand was still wrapped around his wrist. As blood rushed to your face and your ears began to burn you let go of his wrist so quickly an observer might think you'd suffered an electrical shock.

“Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean-” You were stopped by his laughter and your smile made it's way back to your face. On a whim, you took a peek at the clock and found it was only a few minutes until lunchtime. “Hey, you want to close shop for lunch a little early today? Nobody's coming in and we can always reopen those few minutes early if we need to.”

“That sounds good to me. I'll get the sign. What'd you bring today?” he asked, walking towards the window. He liked seeing what you brought to eat, mostly because it was always something different each day.

“I made some fried rice last night so I brought what I had leftover along with some chicken from Tuesday. Figured I'd go for a two-in-one and try to keep my fridge cleaned out. For dessert I brought more of the chocolate chip cookies from Monday. I'm willing to share those, if you want some.” Your food habits were spurred by the fact that you liked to cook; your instant ramen recipe days were over, thankfully, and you intended to enjoy your culinary freedom. Now if only you could get the cookies down without needing to resort to a prepared dough you'd be ecstatic.

“Chicken fried rice and chocolate chip cookies? That's a weird combo.”

You snorted in laughter. “Hey, it's fine enough for me, Mister PB and Grape Jelly Every Day. I think that makes you the weird one. How have you not gotten tired of that sandwich yet?” Since you made it to the break room first you grabbed Steve's lunch out of the fridge alongside yours, leaving it on the little counter next to you. You took a seat on the couch that had been here for longer than you have, and pulled out the plastic baggie full of cookies first.

“Getting started without me?” he said, walking past you to grab his bag before joining you on the couch. “Do you always start with dessert?”

You pulled out two cookies and handed one to him, which he took with an eager 'Thank you'. “You know it. What isn't made better by starting with something sweet?” You beamed at him before taking a large bite out of your cookie. He just laughed and pulled out his trademark sandwich.

A comfortable silence overtook the room as you both tucked into your food, easy atmosphere solidly back in place. Even though the two of you were still getting to know one another, you were hitting it off remarkably well. You were pleased to find that what you mistook for shyness at first meeting was instead simply a natural reservation on his part. There was no doubt in your mind that beneath the largely unassuming exterior of Steve Rogers there was a gold mine of things to learn, but you were game to find out. And, what you would come to find out in time was that he was equally interested in befriending you. Even though your mouth outran your brain more times than not, your straightforward nature was something he admired, especially as you purposefully worked to temper it with an equal measure of kindness. Precious little in life comes to us smoothly and without some level of great effort, but you and Steve were definitely off to a running start.


	3. Egantine Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, first off I did not intend for this chapter to take this long. But I DID NOT want to do this, I wanted no part of this, but I needed this for the narrative. Second, if this chapter is terrible, see point one. I can't tell if I don't like it because it's worse, or because of what I had to do for the story.
> 
> IT GETS BETTER I SWEAR. I PROMISE YOU THIS ISN'T WHERE I'M LEAVING THINGS BECAUSE I AM NOT A TERRIBLE PERSON. AND I ALMOST FORGOT THAT I WAS GOING TO DO THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I BOTCHED IT FOR A HOT SECOND IN CHAPTER ONE BUT FIXED IT. SERIOUSLY THOUGH I HOPE THIS CHAPTER CAME TOGETHER BECAUSE I'M JUST UGH. FORGIVE ME.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~also is anyone paying attention to the chapter titles? because this is your hint to pay attention to chapter titles~~

“So, you got any plans for Halloween? Going to a party or something?” you asked, pausing in your flower gathering efforts to look over at Steve, who was currently washing the vases you needed. Even with October being a slow month for the store there were always a few large orders every year, and this year was no exception, with one anniversary and two weddings. Tomorrow was the pick-up date for the first wedding order, so today was the day to start working on getting the arrangements together. However, you saw no real reason to hurry the process, so you didn't mind making small talk as you went.

“No, not really. Bucky will probably drag me to something though. He's the one who likes going to events. He mentioned one of his classmates was planning on hosting a party, so I'll probably go with him,” he replied. You'd heard a little about his roommate and friend Bucky, little snippets here and there as you got to know Steve better. Without any real curiosity to dig for information, you left the subject well enough alone. You figured you'd meet him eventually if you and Steve became close enough friends to hang out outside of work, and that was good enough for you. “What about you? Are you going anywhere?”

He missed the way your face brightened at the question. “Absolutely! I love Halloween, so I wouldn't miss my one chance to enjoy it. There's a church a few blocks down from my apartment complex that always hosts a huge Trunk-or-Treat every year. I always go with my friend Amanda. She brings her car, since I don't have one, and I bring half the candy and decorations. We both dress up and then usually catch dinner somewhere afterwards. If you're free, I'd like to invite you this year.” Words could not describe how much you enjoyed the event, for all kinds of reasons, and you looked forward to it all year long. You didn't attend the church in question, so you were grateful that they let you participate anyway.

“Trunk-or-Treat?” he asked, finally turning to face you. He thought he could make a solid guess as to what that entailed just from the name, but he'd never been to one and wanted to make sure he was right.

“Mm-hmm. Kids go from one parking space to the next instead of door-to-door. It's safer for them, since there's some level of security there, and they get a ton more candy since the population is denser and everyone's handing out candy. They've got games and food too, for the older kids and adults. Everybody dresses up in costume, and everyone is encouraged to decorate the cars to add to the atmosphere or play off a theme. It's a real blast!”

“I'll keep that in mind. It certainly sounds like something I want to check out,” he said with a chuckle and the two of you traded grins before getting back to work. “What's your costume going to be?”

You were thankful that Steve wasn't looking at you now because you could feel the blush creeping up on you. “It's, uh, a little obscure maybe, but I'm working on a costume of Link, from the new Zelda game. He looks so knightly and awesome that I couldn't pass up the chance. I love his new costume design, and I simply _had_ to recreate it, although the chainmail's a pain to make.” Around your friends you weren't normally embarrassed about your gaming habits, after all it was a fairly common pastime for people your age, but for some reason, admitting to Steve that you were making a costume of a video game character felt childish. Maybe is was how mature he seemed? Or, more likely, it was you refusing to, and I quote, act your age.

“I know Link, but I haven't seen the new game. I don't play many games, so I'm out of the loop,” he admitted. “I did play some of the older ones when I was younger, though I don't remember which ones anymore.”

“Oh, I haven't played the new one, myself. I don't have the kind of free time that lets me play a whole ton of games, so I don't bother to buy any. I've only seen footage online, since that's how I console myself. I'm a right sucker for the sword-and-shield motif, and he was the only character I could think of in recent pop culture that I could think of,” you said sheepishly, glad he didn't think less of you.

To concentrate, you needed to pause your conversational efforts for a moment to run through your mental checklist so you didn't forget to grab what you needed. The white roses were already on the front counter, all 196 of them, which left the other assorted flowers and greenery. The order was fairly standard for a wedding, largely white flowers and mostly roses, but the bride had asked for some seasonal touches, oranges and reds used sparingly for a dramatic touch. You liked her a fair bit for a customer; she had been so enthusiastic about the mock arrangements and ideas you'd given her that it was hard for you to not share in that same energy.

But it would take more than eagerness to turn the designs into reality, and so you were immensely glad that you'd managed to complete the last bit of paperwork for the order before Steve arrived. This way he was able to help you work on the order itself. To start with there were a dozen vases for tablescapes alone, and added to that were the ones to decorate the venue, another half-dozen each large and small vases. With his help in getting the vases washed after arriving, you were able to get everything else ready that much faster. And with two dozen vases, three child-sized baskets for the flower girls, and the bridal bouquet, you could use plenty of help.

A natural and pleasant silence draped between you. Out of habit you started to hum along with the music that could be heard faintly from the front room. You were supremely glad that you thought to use a cart to hold the box you were currently fulling with flowers. You couldn't hold the box and fill it, and even though flowers don't weigh much on their own, flowers in bulk were another story all together. Lilies, baby's breath, and irises were the majority of what you needed, all in white. Besides those you also grabbed more roses, along with asiatic lilies, snapdragons, and carnations in shades of orange and red for that pop of color. The greenery was all ready and waiting in the front, having been there since yesterday.

You were so caught up in your work that you didn't hear the water turn off, or the clink of glass on metal, so when you heard Steve speak up you were so startled that you almost dropped the flowers you were transferring. “Should I take these out front?”

“You done already?” you asked as you turned to face him. When he nodded you answered, “Yeah. After that, can I ask for a quick favor. I'm sure I have everything else ready, but can you double check for me while you're out there? I know the roses are ready, I've counted those three times now, but I need both floral and normal scissors, three rolls of white ribbon, one each of red and orange ribbon, and a flower sleeve for the bouquet. It _should_ all be there, but if you could make sure for me, I'd be super grateful.”

He hesitated a second before replying. “Sure. I can do that. Is that everything.”

“Yeah, sorry for the laundry list there.” You silently chided yourself for just dumping a list on him so quickly as you hurried to finish and catch up. It wouldn't do to keep Steve waiting for you while you floundered around the storage room. Once you were finally done picking out the flowers you needed, you took one last look around to make sure you weren't forgetting something. This order would take long enough without you having to stop constantly because you weren't prepared.

Satisfied that you had everything that you needed, you pushed the cart out of the storage room to find that instead of waiting by the work counter, Steve was behind the front desk shuffling through paperwork.

“Looking for something?” you asked while moving the box of flowers onto the counter top.

“No. Just seeing what else has to be done around here,” he replied without looking over.

You laughed easily, amazed at his industrious nature. “You're going to work yourself into an early grave, my friend. All the grunt work is done for the day. Earlier I figured that I'd get it out of the way, so unless some walk-in customers show up, we're home free.”

When Steve finally put the papers down and looked your way, but didn't smile back at you like he normally did, you felt like something wasn't quite right. “Oh, I just thought if we did different tasks we could accomplish more,” he said, somewhat quietly, and by this time he managed a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Nibbling thoughtfully on your bottom lip, you narrowed your eyes slightly at your coworker, determined to figure out what was going on. “Well, yeah, if we had more to do. But it's just this order, so it'd be faster if we both worked on it.” As you spoke, it hit you. “Oh! I get it! Has Alex not shown you how to put these together? It's super simple, trust me. I'm not even an artsy person and it's easy as store-bought pie! Come on, I'm just as good as she is, so I can teach you too!”

“Ah, well, no she hasn't but...” For a brief moment it appeared as if he wasn't going to move, but then he walked over to stand on the other side of the cart. You moved yourself and the box a little further down the counter to make room for him to stand next to you, glad he was ready to join in.

“Don't worry, you definitely have an eye for this, I know it. You've drawn a ton of the arrangements in here, so I'm sure you've got a good handle on the aesthetics.” While you were talking, you grabbed one of the dozen short, white vases. Those would be the easiest to do, so you planned to show Steve how to do one and let him work on the rest. “Now, any questions before I we start?”

Steve shook his head and remained quiet. You took a moment to fish out several handfuls of mixed flowers from the box, before grabbing one dozen of the white roses and several stems of leaves.

“Alright, then let's get moving. It's all about how the flowers look together, using their shapes and colors to compliment each other. These are simple enough, since it's mostly white flowers, so you won't need to think too hard about colors today, but it's good practice. Now, here's a neat trick,”you said, pausing briefly to pull out a roll of invisible tape and hold it up. “If you take a few pieces just long enough to suspend over the opening, like so, and make a lattice this way, you can use it to hold up the flowers, so it's not necessary to pack them in tightly to make them hold up, especially during transit. Now, should we accent with orange or red for this vase, your choice.”

“Um...” He didn't have a preference at all, but you'd asked his opinion so earnestly. “Orange.”

“Sweet, okay, so grab the orange ribbon for me. We'll use the carnations and colored roses for these arrangements. Since the vases are short and meant for tables, it's good to keep the flowers low too. The taller vases are better for the lilies and snapdragons, although if you ever wanted, you could use some taller stems for line accents in the smaller vases. It's a matter of where they're going and what other flowers you're using,” you babbled, lost in your own excitement. When you glanced over at Steve to grab the ribbon from him, you noticed that he was just staring at them intently. There was definitely something not right here, and suddenly there was a sneaking suspicion in your mind. “Steve?”

His head snapped up to face you, eyes wide. “Oh, here you go,” he said all at once, holding out one of the rolls of ribbon to you. 

He realized his mistake when you frowned slightly and furrowed your brows. “That's... That's the red ribbon, Steve.”

The phrase 'Hindsight is 20/20' came to your mind in that moment. You knew you weren't an observant person, but to have known Steve for almost a month and not noticed this was your crowning blunder. As the mortification settled in your stomach, it felt as though you'd swallowed a glacier whole.

“You're?” you asked quietly, wondering if you could delude yourself into believing for a moment that this was a Halloween prank.

“Colorblind,” he replied, averting his eyes. This was the last way he wanted you to find out.

“Ah.” There goes your hopes of sweet delusion. “Have you told Alex?”

“Yeah. I was supposed to let you know, but I couldn't find the right time. I was hoping that I could find a way to work around it, so I didn't have to. How could I let you do all the flower work by yourself?”

It certainly explained an awful lot, like Steve not being scheduled to open the store, even though he should have been able to, or him always being tied up with other jobs while you were arranging flowers. Now that you thought about it, all of his drawings were in pencil, left uncolored. You wished Alex would have said something to you, even a discreet heads-up.

The only obstacle left now was, what to say? What could you say? You felt like a magnificent jerk, after egging him on to join you so often and so vigorously. It's not like you even noticed, but all the same you felt as though you'd been rubbing his face in it. Should you apologize? Would he take it the wrong way? You didn't need to botch this up further for yourself, but sensitive moments weren't exactly your forte.

You decided to do what you did best, and that was just saying what you felt without pondering over it. “Steve, I didn't mean to throw my enthusiasm around on purpose. And, before you get on me about saying sorry, I want to apologize anyway because there's no way that I've gone this long gabbing on about how much fun I was having without hurting your feelings even once.” You stared at the counter, not quite trusting yourself to look elsewhere. “I just... I don't even know. If you want to take a break or something, you can go ahead.”

“No. No, it wouldn't be fair. And I don't want to be treated differently, even if I can't do the same work as you every time.” That was half the reason alone that he'd kept the secret so long, right there. Steve was nothing if not doggedly fair, and disadvantage or no, that wasn't ever going to change. However, he knew you meant well by it. You meant well about everything you did, he was sure. Much more quietly, after realizing how defensive he sounded, he continued, “I can put together the white roses, if you'd like.”

You smiled at him, but it was easy to tell your heart wasn't in it. “If you're up to it.”

The pair of you returned to your work then. The tension in the air was gone, but a tepid, awkward silence blanketed the two of you. At lunchtime you managed to start a normal, if slightly shallow, conversation that eased the mood a fraction. By the end of the day the order was completed, but it would take time for the state of affairs in the store to return to their rightful place. That was fine, you knew exactly how to spend that time.


	4. Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I don't even know what to say here anymore. I started off all gung-ho but life likes to kick me in the kidneys and I've retreated into the weird section of YouTube and grinding for ridiculous amounts of Bells in AC:NL. Blame the holidays and pray I don't make my annual migration back to Maplestory for a few more weeks.

The bright morning sun shone down on the city, it's warmth beginning to cast off the lingering chill from the night before, light glaring off of windows and passing cars. Dry leaves skittered down the street and sidewalk, pushed by the light wind that made Steve infinitely grateful for the time he spent over the weekend digging out his long-sleeved shirts. Despite the temperature, he enjoyed this kind of weather, especially in the afternoon after it warmed up. Cool autumn days were easy to deal with, nothing long sleeves or a sweater couldn't fix. The coming icy winter ones? Not so much. It was hard enough for him to keep warm most of the year without the added difficulty of a north-east winter. All the more reason to take make the most of what time he had.

As he began chaining his bike to the rack that stood only a few feet down from the store, Steve sharply let out a breath, almost a sigh. That was certainly easier said than done. For a while, it was easy to enjoy life with how smoothly everything fell into place. His coursework had evened out this year, his personal portfolio was finally looking halfway decent, he'd gotten hired at a job that let him afford to treat himself on occasion, and, up until just recently, he was _this close_ to befriending you. But now you'd begun to avoid him at work. 

No, that wasn't quite it. It wasn't that you were outright avoiding him, an impossible task for two people working in the same place at the same time, but you were significantly less chatty and whenever you weren't busy with the frankly ridiculous amount of 'taking inventory' you'd started to do, your nose was buried into your notebook. He tried to rationalize it, you _had_ said that work was due to pick up next month, so Alex would need to know what was still in the store so she knew what to order. And midterms were approaching, so of course you would be preoccupied. That's what he told himself, at least, not that it helped him in any way. It was just so hard to believe that you'd turn on him so quickly. Steve wouldn't say that he knew you exceptionally well, but this felt downright out of character.

The thought that he should just ask you crossed his mind as he made his way to the door of the shop. And honestly, that would be the most direct way of getting the whole issue resolved. After all it'd been his dancing around that caused the problem in the first place, so naturally that would have to be the way to solve it. Ah, but what if that started a proper fight? Not a fist-fight, he wasn't going to pick one of those and he was confident that you wouldn't either, but if his suspicions were right then there was no chance it wouldn't escalate. He meant it when he told you that he didn't want to be treated differently just because of faulty genetic code that kept him from seeing colors the way most people could, and of all people, Steven Grant Rogers was _absolutely_ not one to let other people take pity on or patronize him.

He opened the door and the tiny bell attached to it chimed, announcing his entrance. You were nowhere to be seen, not that he actually expected you to be. Unconsciously, he puffed up a bit in agitation.

His hunch was proven correct when a voice called out softly from the storeroom. “Steve? That you?”

“Yeah,” he replied, making his way towards the break room to put his lunch away. Was it his imagination, or did you sound off today?

“Ah, great! Could... Could you come here for a second?” you asked, and this time Steve was certain that you sounded almost nervous. “I need help with something.”

That made Steve pause. No matter how upset he might have been, if you were in trouble he wasn't going to refuse to help you. The question was, what kind trouble could you possibly be in that you would need his help? Wordlessly he hurried into the back of the store, taking only the briefest moment to leave his lunch bag on the back counter so that he'd remember to put it away.

When he arrived in the storeroom he found you standing mostly hidden behind a stack of boxes. You stepped out timidly, and he noticed that you were holding what looked like a stack of labels. A quick scan of the room didn't reveal what you'd been working on that required assistance. “So, what did you need me for?”

Heart hammering away in your chest, you fidgeted. “I, um, need you to look these over,” you said, offering the labels to him. Up until this morning you considered this a great idea, there had been no doubt that this was genius. Now that it was crunch time, not so much.

Carefully, Steve took the stack and gave them a curious glance. “What am I looking for?”

“I just want to know what you think.” You couldn't bear to watch him examine them, so you took to staring intently at the boxes you'd used as a shield earlier.

Since you failed to give him a proper answer, he did as you asked and began to read the top-most label, and surprised at what he found, he began to leaf through them. Each one had the same set of information on it, starting with a standard name, then a scientific name, followed by one or two colors and some kind of palette suggestion.

White Ceder, Thuja occidentalis, Green and Brown, Suggested Palette(s): Any.

Iris (Siberian), Iris sibirica, Blue and Purple, Suggested Palette(s): 3, 7.

Queen Anne's Lace, Ammi majus, White, Suggested Palette(s): 1, 4, 6.

There were more of these than Steve could possibly read in anything resembling a timely manner. He looked back up to you, wondering what the point of this was. Certainly, you weren't expecting him to put these up, even if he could guess some of the more recognizable flowers, the majority of those came in different colors. He cleared his throat to catch your attention. “So, what are these for?”

You were almost angry with how this conversation was going. Wasn't it obvious? Actually, when you thought about it, no, it wasn't. Time for you to man up. “That depends on if they're helpful to you or not.”

“Helpful for me?” Steve asked, clearly still missing your meaning.

“Yeah. If they were, you know,” you waved your hand vaguely at the containers of flowers around the room. “If they were put up, is there enough information on them that you could pick out flowers on your own?”

Steve nearly dropped the stack of labels. He hadn't thought of that, but now that it occurred to him, the whole situation made an awful lot more sense. “You did all this yourself?” You'd taken him by complete surprise.

Nervously, you shuffled your feet and twisted your fingers together, trying to compose yourself. “Well, I, yeah. After you told me you were colorblind, I got to thinking and color is only half of a proper arrangement, right? So, I thought 'Hey, if all he needs is to know what color the flowers and vases and stuff are, then that should be easy to fix', but I didn't want to ask you about it because you acted like you didn't want to talk about it at the time, and the last thing I wanted was to let my mouth run me into more trouble by digging holes where there don't need to be. And then, it hit me that labels would be the easiest way because then you wouldn't have to ask me or Alex all the time to make sure you've grabbed the right stuff, and you'd be able to open the store or cover for me if I'm ever out sick or something.” The longer you talked about it, the dumber your plan sounded to yourself, a feeling that was not helped any by his lack of reaction. He didn't ask for you to do all this. Were you supposed to? Probably. You began to mentally kick yourself for not thinking it through more. _Way to go Nike, Greco-Roman goddess of shoving your whole foot, shoe and all, down your over-sized mouth._ “I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. It's just, after you said you didn't want to be treated differently, I wanted to try and make it so that you could do the same jobs around the store as me and Alex. I, uh, should have brought it up with you first though, instead of putting you on the spot like this,” you said, trailing off quietly and still too embarrassed to face him properly.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I'm not upset.” Not anymore, at least, but he wasn't going to admit to that now that he knew what was going on. Honestly, he was too dumbfounded to be angry. Only Bucky had ever gone to these kinds of lengths to accommodate him in small day-to-day matters, so to find out that you'd invested this level of time and effort was beyond surprising. “I'm actually speechless. Is this why you've been sneaking around back here.”

“I'm sor-”You began to apologize again before cutting yourself off. “Yeah. I'm awful at keeping secrets, and I'm a terrible liar, so it was easier to write down everything back here, since you almost always stay out front.”

In an attempt to capture your full attention Steve called your name, and it worked perfectly. With a small, startled jump you looked his way. “Thank you,” he said, smiling gently at you. “These will be more than helpful, and I'm both grateful and humbled that you'd do this for me.”

You shuffled in place bashfully, anxiety quickly draining , and trying to ignore the building heat in your cheeks and ears. “I'm just glad you're okay with it. I got nervous for a second there, to tell you the truth.”

“I'm not that scary, am I?” he asked in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Terrifying,” you replied with an abrupt grin, shoulders finally relaxing. “There's a reason I haven't bothered with Halloween decorations this year, and for once it's not me being spooky enough to count.”

The room filled with bright laughter as you both surrendered to your relief, fueled in no small part at the realization of just how absurdly worked up you'd both been. It felt wonderful to finally relax again, you decided.

After a small beat of silence, Steve spoke. “You didn't have to go through all this trouble on your own. It's a great idea, I would have helped with what I could've.”

“I wasn't sure about that earlier, and I didn't know if I could explain it to you without having something to show for it. Once I got started, I figured I'd go big or go home and I did most of the work at home in the first place. Only, by the time I got this far I figured I'd have to commit to the idea without asking you, so I didn't want to bring it up. Are you certain those will be good enough?”

“If we find out they're not, we can fix it later. It'll take a few weeks to figure out with trial-and-error, because I wouldn't even know what else I'd need to know.”

“Can do. I definitely want your help finishing, if you're up for it. I still have to do the vases, ribbons, and the other assorted supplies, and I don't even want to think about going through all the off-season flowers right now so those I'll put off for a while. But I could bring in my label printer and give you the paper with the data on it so you could print them out for me. Obviously, I'll put them up. This batch I'll start today, and hopefully I get far enough that you can help me with that final wedding order,” you said, reaching out for the labels now that you knew they were sufficient for their task.

“What should I start on today, then?” Steve asked, giving you the stack. He was looking forward to learning how to do the arrangements, but until then he'd keep himself busy.

It took you a moment to mentally go through all the things that still needed to be done. You hadn't accomplished much this morning due to your state of mind. “The paperwork for a few new orders still needs to be sorted out and filed. Two for Thanksgiving centerpieces that we'll need to order special accessories for, an order for three memorial wreaths, and a standard pick-up order for Thursday. If you don't mind, there's a bag of trail mix calling my name before I fix up the displays. I need something in my stomach before I'm functional.”

“You didn't eat?” he asked, pausing from his walk out to the front to look back at you.

You shook your head, only a few paces behind him. “Nope, I didn't have the nerves this morning, and I'm paying for it. But that's why I brought something quick and easy. Did you want some?”

“I'm good. Just don't take too long, or I'll tell Alex that you're the reason all the kids like to hang outside the store,” teased Steve. Your response was a gasp of mock offense.

“You wouldn't! And besides, do you have any idea how hard those puzzle pieces are to collect? Maybe I should print a label for you. 'Warning: Is actually a cheeky punk'. How does that sound, huh?”you replied, trailing off into light laughter.

With the tense fog lifted and the two of you in vastly improved moods, you each began your day's workload. Steve in the front of the store filing paperwork and clearing off your station so that you could, with any luck, begin the final pieces of his training. He had no doubts about your upswing in mood, you'd taken to humming as you worked again, a detail he missed in it's absence. Meanwhile, you scarfed your makeshift breakfast and began affixing the labels to their respective containers. As you worked you noticed that some improvements would be required, maybe some sort of tag that could be moved as needed, but that was a problem for another day. Today was off to a booming start, and there was no conceivable reason to bog it down with tomorrow's troubles. And that, as they say, is that.


End file.
